


Holiday Baking - A Johnlock Christmas

by JustHereToShipThings



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27894130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustHereToShipThings/pseuds/JustHereToShipThings
Summary: When they fail at baking their own cake, the boys head to a bakery and try to buy a Christmas cake - only a poisoner is attacking the cakes! Sherlock gets a great mystery to solve and John gets to see his husband happy!Part of the Johnlock 2020 Advent Calendar Collection
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16
Collections: 2020 Advent Collection Johnlock Style





	Holiday Baking - A Johnlock Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Holiday Baking." Part of the Johnlock 2020 Advent Calendar Collection

It’s a chilly December 5th when - BOOM! The cake explodes the second the oven is opened, splattering John and Sherlock. Their stunned for a second, then burst out laughing.  
“Okay, we can’t cook” John grins at his love.   
“A fairly safe deduction my love” laughs Sherlock. “We could go out and buy a Christmas cake?”  
“Sounds good to me” John shines warmly.  
Making sure Sherlock is wrapped up warm (the detective will often forget to do so), the two crunch out into the softly falling snow. There’s a fresh inch thick blanket of the stuff beneath their feet that makes satisfying soft sounds beneath their feet. Sherlock and John stroll together, hand in hand, laughing about nothing and everything, gazing at each other every chance they get. They head into the nearest bakery and begin oogling all the sweet treats behind the glass. Sliding off their gloves allows John to admire the golden wedding band on Sherlock’s ring finger, matching his own.   
He must be gazing a little too hard, because Sherlock grins knowingly at him, “you melting over there John?”  
“Hmm” John coos, wrapping his strong arms around Sherlock’s skinny waist, not caring that their literally in a public bakery. “The best thing I ever did was marry you. Do you have any idea how proud I am to have you?” when the guy serving behind the bakery counter comes over, John beams at him, “this is my husband, this handsome man married me, can you believe it?” he asks him.  
The guy behind the counter looks uncertain, “um, yes?”  
Both John and Sherlock laugh.

Sherlock and John pick out a bright red and green ‘Merry Christmas’ cake. It’s just being boxed up when, in an alarming show of lights and sirens, the police pull up outside, along with a man labelled as a health inspector. They burst in, “stop right there!” it’s Lestrade himself, and when he sees Sherlock and John he’s dumbfounded for a second, then continues, “we’re shutting this place down.”  
“Why’s it always us?” Sherlock asks John.  
“Danger comes to us, I guess” John shrugs, “and we love it.”  
“Well that’s true” Sherlock grins.

It’s quickly explained that Sherlock and John had a very close call! A string of customers have gotten arsenic poisoning, orientating from this very bakery. At first it was thought to be just normal bad cooking, then food poisoning, but now even Scotland Yard had realised these people aren’t getting sick by accident; their being deliberately poisoned, and Sherlock and John were about to be next!  
“Isn’t that ironic Sherlock?” John asks.  
“Very” Sherlock agrees, “Now we’ve got a mass poisoning to solve! Ooh its Christmas!”  
“Is is Christmas, Sherlock. It’s December 5th.”  
“You mean its the _boring_ kind of Christmas, John.”  
John rolls his eyes, fondly. He loves his husband, but damn if he isn’t annoying at times! But John also loves that, so he can’t complain.  
Sherlock sets to work trying to figure out this poisoning. He goes rifling through the entire bakery for any signs of an arsenic stash. “Now” Sherlock talks out loud to John as usual, “I’m going to need to hear the statements of everyone who was poisoning. When they brought from here, what did they get, did they get it from the shop or delivered? Lestrade, start knocking on doors.”  
“On it” Lestrade says, already off to assign men while John takes studious notes.  
“You gonna blog about this later?” Sherlock grins over his shoulder, examining the wall as he talks.  
“Of course. I always blog about you. The public are starved for Sherlock Holmes content no matter how often I feed them.”  
“What can I say? I’m a fascinating guy” Sherlock says, smugly. John gives him a sharp elbow to remind him to watch his ego before it explodes his head. Sherlock just laughs.

It is indeed a wonderful Christmas gift for them both. Sherlock gets a new mystery to solve, and John gets the comfort of knowing nobody is actually dead yet. This may be one of the few times they're able to _prevent_ a murder!  
Sherlock gets to trawl through the database of customers and staff, giggling as he loves the research, he loves digging into people's info. John stands proudly by.  
With no body to help examine, John is placed on 'standing and complimenting' duty. Which is his favourite job anyway! On cases like this, with no doctoring to do, John mostly acts as a soundboard.  
"Listen to this John, only the people who get their goods delivered have gotten sick. People who pick stuff up from the shop don't get sick."   
"So it's a delivery person?" John says excitedly.  
"Perhaps" Sherlock considers, "or a kitchen worker who wants to make it look it that way. We have to ask; are these poisoning coming from only one delivery person's route or multiple delivery person's routes."  
"Because it it's on one route then it must be that delivery person?"   
"Unless a kitchen worker wants to set up that one delivery person. If it's multiple routes, then it's a chef who wants to kill as many people as possible. If it's one route, then it's either a set up or the delivery person themselves."  
"Damn. Which do you think?"  
"Data data data John" Sherlock says, "I cannot make bricks without clay."  
John rolls his eyes, fondly.

Convincing Sherlock to go home for the evening is never easy. That man would work all night, if he could!  
"Come on you, were retrying baking our own things, since things are clearly poisoned around here."   
“We’ll only explode the kitchen again.”  
“So be it then!” laughs John.  
Back at home, they break out aprons and a cookery book. Determined to get this done, they manage to explode two more cakes before successfully making one.  
“We did it!” Sherlock beams proudly at their cake. It’s lopsided and is a bit undercooked, but at least it didn’t explode!  
“We can try gingerbread men next?” John offers brightly.  
“I don’t think the kitchen can handle it” Sherlock laughs, looking around the cake-splattered kitchen.  
“We can’t explode gingerbread men though, can we?”  
“We managed to explode three cakes, so I wouldn’t put it past us.”  
“Well then, let’s eat our hard work” John chirps. 

Their cake tastes slightly undercooked so they very carefully cook it a little longer then actually manage to eat it! It doesn’t taste awful, but it doesn’t taste good either, but they both muddle through to bolster the other. By now, the snow is really coming down and once the cake is eaten, the two wrap up warm and go dancing in the snow.  
For John, Christmas’ have been very lonely events. His parents…well they weren’t such good people, and so Christmas was ruined a long time ago. In the army, as much as they tried, there was only so much joy could be brought into a war zone.  
Now though, he’s got Sherlock. Wonderful, beautiful Sherlock. His husband.   
John has stopped dancing in the snow and is just frozen in place, smiling vacantly, his eyes locked on Sherlock, watching him spin around in the falling snow. Sherlock stops spinning and grins at John. Snowflakes land in his curls as his eyes shine, “what you gazing at?”  
“You” John coos, “you look like an Angel. Why are you married to me?”  
Sherlock chuckles and crosses the small space between them. He pulls John’s coat tighter around him to make sure he’s cosy and smiles down at his like the sun, “because you are my conductor of light, and you look far more gorgeous. Why are _**you**_ married to me?”  
John grins, stands up on his toes and kisses Sherlock softly upon his chapping lips. “Because I love you.”  
“And I love you more” Sherlock boops their noses together. For a moment, they share a gaze before Sherlock pipes up, “I wonder if that idiot Lestrade has figured out who our poisoner is yet.”  
John laughs out loud, “excuse me, I though we were having a romantic moment?”  
“We are. Now I’m wondering if Lestrade has figured out the obvious answer yet.”  
“Oh because you’ve figured it out?”  
“Two hours ago, naturally.”  
“Oh, naturally” John rolls his eyes, and breaks their embrace to scoop up some snow, “Bloody show off!” he lobes the snowball at Sherlock, who ducks and laughs and scoops up his own snow.  
“I warn you! I’m a great shot!” Sherlock grins.  
“And I’m a solider” John warns, scooping up a new snowball.

A snowball fight ensues. Sherlock and John are both excellent shots, but their also both excellent at dodging and evading. However, they both have advantages:  
John is a better shot. Sherlock is an excellent one for a civilian, but John is trained for hitting moving targets and is just better at it overall. So he gets a lot of hits in before -  
Well, Sherlock is the genius between the two. He’s the embodiment of brains vs brawns, and he’s better at evading. After John gets a few shots in, John bends down to scoop more snow and Sherlock’s just gone. He spins around and gets clubbed in the back of the head by a snowball. John laughs and turns back around, but nothing is behind him. Then he gets clubbed in the back of the head again with snow and John laughs, “okay” he calls, refusing to turn around, “Where are you?”  
“I’m everywhere and nowhere!” Sherlock calls from nowhere in particular.  
“Yeah yeah, you’re smarter then me, we all know this!” John can’t keep the grin off his face. “Now play fair.”  
“I am playing fair.”  
“You are not!”  
John gets another snowball to the back of the head before Sherlock calls, “deal with it.”  
John laughs, puts down his snow and throws up his hands, “okay! I surrender. Come out.”

“Boo” Sherlock says, suddenly behind John.  
John turns around and rolls his eyes at him, “what am I gonna do with you?”  
“Love me forever?” Sherlock grins.  
John chuckles at him, “okay, less violence, do you wanna build a snowman?”  
“Sure thing Elsa.”  
John groans at the terrible joke, and the two swap terrible _Frozen_ references all the while compelling a snowman outside 221B.   
"This is great and all, but I'm freezing" Sherlock shivers.  
"Then it's time for hot chocolate" John takes his husbands hand and leaves him inside where he layers Sherlock up in blankets. "Know why you're so cold? Cause you're too skinny! Not enough body fat to keep you warm."  
"Then you should feed me better" grins Sherlock. John boops his nose for being cheeky, then makes them both hot chocolate, topped with cream and mini marshmallows.

"So did you tell Lestrade the answer?" John asks as they sit down in their usual places.  
"Sure did. It was a young delivery driver. My theory? They wanted to kill someone but weren't sure of their dosages. So they started out with a small amount, enough to make people sick, and the people got sicker and sicker as the dosage hired. If we had eaten the cake we almost brought, we'd have been hospitalised but not killed. The next level of dosage would kill. It was all an experiment in dosage.”  
“Who did they want to kill?”  
“Someone that young? Had to be a family member, probably their parents.”  
“Lovely. Christmas spirit, eh?”  
“Well it was a good Christmas gift to me! Not all that interesting though. I hope my next Christmas present is something a little more challenging. Maybe a nice triple murder, something bloody!”  
“You really are a Sociopath” John shakes his head fondly.  
“Whaaaat? Red, blood, its a Christmas colour, isn’t it? I don’t see anything weird here.”  
“You are weird Sherlock, but I wouldn’t have you any other way. I love you, Sherlock Watson-Holmes.”  
“But I love you the most, John Hamish Watson-Holmes.”


End file.
